And now I know the best lullabies are the flat horns
Of those Budi nazar wale tera muh kaala trucks,
On the way from Bhagalpur to Dimapur,
Smelling of Ghoda Chaap rum and effervescent Howrah beedis,
Enveloped in the musky fake Charlie perfumed hangover
Of the Nepali whore at the Bharat Petroleum pump.
Nepali whores, a Bengali whore told me once in Kalighat,
Are the promiscuous of them all
Only to burst out giggling at the
Ridiculousness of the ranking of randiness.
Sab behen behen, she said.